Postmortem
by Missmishka
Summary: A conclusion to the LilahWesley story from season 4. First Angel fanfic, please R&R.


Disclaimer: All characters and events in this story belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and a whole host of others who are not me.

Notes: This fic is set in season 5 post-Spike's return though not really following any timeline from the season. Contains spoilers from the last episodes of Angel season 4. This is my first Angel fanfiction and I am writing it having only seen the newest episodes. I am a huge Spike fan who only began watching the show when he became a regular, but I have read all the transcripts from earlier episodes on buffyworld.com. Through those transcripts I became intrigued with the Lilah/Wesley relationship and decided to try my hand at writing an ending to that story. Please read and review, emails are welcome at any time to missmishka@aol.com. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**__**

Postmortem 

With unseeing eyes Wesley Wyndam-Pryce stared at the single dollar bill lying on his desk next to the half empty bottle of Scotch.

Averting his gaze from the writing on the bill he emptied the glass in his hand and placed the tumbler down next to the bottle.

Unable to resist he picked the dollar up and settled back in his chair staring at it.

Even if he were able to suppress the memory of the act there would never be any denying that the writing was his. Clearly written in black ink and his handwriting were his name and the unforgettable date of the moment he'd lost the little bet he'd had with her.

Part of him wanted to rip it to shreds while another wished she'd taken it with her when she left that day. As he stared intently at the harmless little rectangle of American currency he knew he was glad to have and would never get rid of it.

__

It would be a permanent reminder of his most foolhardy decisions, he tried to convince himself.

Deep inside he knew that his reasons for keeping it were much more than that. 

__

Lilah, he thought as he tossed the money down on his desk and refilled his glass.

Rather than going right back to trying to drink her memory away he bent to open a drawer and pulled out her file once more.

He'd kept it here with him since they moved in to the offices. He knew it's contents inside and out – from the psychological profile the company had had done before hiring her to the legal and binding contract he'd gallantly tried to destroy.

As usual his attention was drawn first to the contract and then to the old photograph of her that was included in the file. She was younger in it with the same determination in her expression that she'd probably had her entire life, but there was still a touch of innocence and life to her captured in the picture. 

"My hair looks better now," she said suddenly from across the room, "and thanks to my employment here I became a much sharper dresser."

Refusing to show his surprise at her unexpected appearance he slowly flipped the file shut and picked up his drink before looking at her. He took in the silky green dress that clung softly to her figure, deliberately avoided looking at her scarf covered neck then met her gaze.

"Here to haunt me as Spike now does Angel?" he asked dryly.

"Tempting," she smiled and moved forward to stand on the other side of his desk, "but no."

While taking a sip from his glass he gave her a look demanding an explanation, which she ignored in favor of picking up the infamous dollar bill.

"Probably the only truly good moment we ever had," she said softly as she studied his signature. 

Having thought that very same thing a few times himself, Wesley continued to nurse on his liquor and said nothing in response.

"I need a favor," she put the dollar aside and focused on him again.

"Why am I not surprised?" he sat up straight. "What is it?"

"It's personal, not business," she rounded the desk to stand next to him and flipped open her file until she found what she was looking for. "I'd like for you to make sure she continues to receive the best possible care until she passes on. I made all the necessary arrangements for her care to continue in case I died before she did, but it would be appreciated if I knew someone was making sure my orders are being carried out."

"Your mother?" he studied the information she was indicating. "You're asking me to make sure your mother is taken care of? That's the favor?"

"I didn't think it would be too much to ask," she frowned at the disbelief in his expression. "All you need to do is make sure she stays where she is and get in touch with her doctors every once in a while to see how she's doing."

"When you said favor I was expecting something more …"

She smiled a little at him and turned so that their faces were mere inches apart, "Something more selfish or nefarious?" 

His eyes dropped to her lips so close to his and he swallowed down the urges of his body while putting more distance between them.

"Exactly," he said before taking a gulp of his Scotch.

"There really isn't much I can ask of you for myself now. I'm dead and I've accepted that. That being the way things are," she looked at the file's photo of her elderly mother, "I'm not here to take care of her anymore and she needs someone."

"I'll do it," he whispered as he studied her profile and the poignant expression on her face as she looked at the picture.

"Thank you," she turned her gaze to his and smiled a genuine smile of gratitude.

Those two little words on her lips stunned him and it showed.

"I may never use them, but I was taught the same good manners as you growing up," she laughed at his reaction.

A little unnerved by this meeting he rose from his chair and walked to the window with his nearly empty drink in hand.

"Why are we having this discussion now?" he asked after staring blankly out at the dark night sky.

"Last chance I'll have to," he saw her approach him in the reflective surface of the glass he stared out of. 

He turned to face her with a curious expression at her words.

"The senior partners have decided that my presence will no longer be needed to help you all adjust to your new surroundings so they're allowing me to be put out to pasture as I'm sure your little Texan would say."

"They're releasing you from your contract?" Wesley was very surprised by that.

"Not by a long shot," she smiled. "They just don't see a reason to continue using me at the moment so off I go until they call me again."

"It'll probably be better for you," he finished his drink and moved to fill it up again.

"There is no better for me, lover. I get to obey their commands or enjoy my damnation in Hell."

His hand jerked at her words, spilling amber liquid on his desk before he put down his glass.

"Don't act like that surprises you," she spoke from just behind him. "We're both damned it's why we were able to find some comfort together."

"Cold comfort," he muttered while trying to ignore her being so close.

"Not always," he felt a hand slide up his spine and her breath on his ear. "We got pretty hot and sweaty on a few occasions."

Even though it showed that she was effecting him, he quickly moved away to put distance between them once again. She remained standing next to the next as he dropped back down in his chair, picked his glass up once more and tossed back it's contents.

"I want another favor," she said softly as she watched him reach again for the bottle.

He froze then looked at her in a way that asked what that favor might be.

"I want you to stop doing this," she looked into his eyes. "Don't keep me as one of your crosses to bear. Put the file back in the archives, tear up that dollar and keep your drinking binges for gloomy reflections upon something else. Deny it all you want, but we did have some good moments. Remember those if you ever want to think of me in the future and just let the rest go."

"You definitely aren't her," he sighed as he went back to drinking.

"We both know I am and that's why you're doing this. You realize now that we had something you needed and now miss. It was more than satisfying your basic instincts and scratching an itch. Inside you know that in my way I loved you when you most needed it. That's why you got me out of here so the Beast wouldn't kill me and it's why you cried when you cut my head off thinking Angelus may have turned me." She knelt beside his chair and placed a hand on his, "And it's why you have to stop this. Don't just pretend to be the cool reserved Brit with the stiff upper lip and no emotions where I'm concerned, be that way. I'm dead now it can't hurt me," she touched his face, "but seeing you like this can and does."

"Why the sudden nobility?" he turned away from her.

"Because we've both suffered enough and in this small way we can both find peace. I want you to know I'll never regret a moment that we had and I want the same for you. Tell me that you're going to stop brooding over me so I have one less sin to suffer for eternally."

He picked up the dollar bill on his desk.

"I won't tear this up," he whispered.

"Then spend it," she stood again. "Just don't keep it to get all gloomy and philosophical over."

"There's a lot that I'd do differently if I could," he looked up into her eyes, "but try as I may I can't lie to myself convincingly enough to believe that I'd never have been with you given another choice. This," he turned to study the bill, "when I signed this and you smiled and kissed me so sweetly, was more than just one of _our_ best moments it was one of the best I had. You tried. When everyone else turned on me you tried to keep me who I was. Whatever your motives were you tried and succeeded." He met her gaze again, "I don't regret it."

"Thank you," she said again with a hint of moisture in her eyes before abruptly vanishing. 

Jumping to his feet he scanned the office for her only to find that she was indeed gone. With a heavy sigh he sat back down in his chair and stared at the spot beside it where she had knelt. 

After a long moment's silence he got a pen and paper, copied down the information from her file that he would need to fulfill his first promise then closed the folder. He then pulled out his wallet and tucked the dollar bill back in it's own little corner before rising to put the nearly empty bottle of Scotch back in the liquor cabinet. With that done he picked up her file and left the office to do as she had asked.

Once below in the file room he stood next to the cabinet this folder was to go back in to and fought back the memory of his last visit here when she had appeared to watch him so fondly while he tried to burn her contract. As he put the file back in it's place he hoped that somehow she did find some of the peace he had hoped to help her achieve by releasing her from the ties that bound her to Wolfram & Hart.

Later, in his flat, he emptied his pockets and placed the contents on his bedside table before showering and preparing for bed. 

Feeling only slightly cleansed by the hot water he'd scalded his body with and the rough scrubbing he'd given his flesh he crawled under the covers ready to try and sleep. When he turned to shut off his bedside lamp and his gaze landed on his wallet he realized that Lilah was completely gone now and neither of them had said goodbye. 

In a way he supposed that was fitting when one considered that they had never officially said hello.

Determined to stop thinking about her he shut the light off, promised himself he'd spend that dollar on something first thing in the morning then closed his eyes to hopefully dream of nothing.

~*~

__

The End


End file.
